


i always want you when i’m finally fine

by LunarSlytherin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkwardness, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, I have been aching to write stevebucky so here I am, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 06:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarSlytherin/pseuds/LunarSlytherin
Summary: When they walked into the apartment, all Bucky could smell was damp. Mould, damp and maybe a faint trace of mildew.(Or, Bucky and Steve move into their first apartment after Sarah’s death.)





	i always want you when i’m finally fine

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! thank u for clicking on this fic!!
> 
> I just wanted to thank my best bro Toby (@dapperdeveloper17 on tumblr) for listening to my endless rambling about this fic and always reading it (even if you don’t like marvel)
> 
> I also wanted to thank Evan (@karollinadean) Milana (@buddythor) and Sam (@steve-rogers-will-live) for being excited with me too.
> 
> My tumblr is @dykebucky if you wanna hit me up!
> 
> Title is from ‘I bet on losing dogs’ by Mitski.

October, 1937

When they walked into the apartment, all Bucky could smell was damp. Mould, damp and maybe a faint trace of mildew. Winter wasn’t going to be fun. They’d already gotten a sweltering summer (just a few days after Steve's birthday they got over 100°) and everyone knew that in turn, they were in for a baltic winter. 

Their apartment was uncomfortable, to say the least, but it was theirs. Not legally, of course, because on Bucky’s wage they could only afford the rent rates. But it was still theirs. Bucky liked it all well and good, but he felt a sort of detached emotion towards it. As if any day now they'd move back into Sarah Rogers' flat and she'd suddenly pop her head around her room door and hand them her best apple pie, and call them "a leanaí". But he knew he shouldn't complain, so he stopped. Sarah wasn't long buried, and talking about it with Steve just upset him.

He looked over at Steve, who just sniffed. Obviously he had gotten the smell of damp too. His nose wrinkled, and he gave the tiniest shake of his head.

He sighed, and wiped any look of discomfort from his face. He plastered on a small smile that Bucky thought looked more like a grimace, but didn’t say anything. He knew that Steve was well aware damp wasn’t good for his chest, another thing to add to the list of worries they’ll push to the side.

“Look, Buck, our apartment,” Steve gestured widely, “All ours!”

Bucky tentatively walked over towards a single decaying armchair in the corner, and traced his fingers on a mysterious patch of discolour on it.

“Mm, though we’re gonna want more furniture,” Bucky said, absentmindedly rubbing his chin. "A few extra shifts on the docks n’ we’ll be right as rain,“ he muttered, more to himself.

Steve’s face grew steely. Bucky knew what was coming; he had known Steve long enough to have learnt off his signature martyr ramble word for word.

"Look, Buck, I don’t wan’ ya working your ass off, just cause you think I can’t scrape together money to pay for an ol’ couch,” Steve started.

Bucky smirked. Dramatic as always, he thought.

He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder and could feel the tension in his friend’s back.

“We’ll be fine, Stevie. You can stroll around the block, maybe see if there’s anywhere searchin’ for staff,” Bucky smiled, and turned away towards the bedroom door. He knew that the excitement of owning a new apartment together was stronger than the urge for Steve to be annoyed with him.

“Now,” he clapped his hands together, “Let’s see the damage in here,”

Bucky hoped there wouldn’t be any infestations, but he’d never lived round this side of town and didn’t know what to expect. Steve glanced at Bucky, smiled, and raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘stop worrying.’

“Ah, don't, g'way, Buck. You’re only worryin’ for nothing, it ain’t gonna be that bad,”

Steve was right; the room, thankfully, was pest free, though Bucky could see a mould patch forming a crack across the ceiling that he’d have to worry about sooner or later.

There were two lumpy cots cramped into the room, both with no quilts, but the mattresses looked sound enough and there were no springs sticking out. The two beds both had chronic squeaking problems.

“Nothin’ a little vegetable oil couldn’t fix,” Steve said, plonking himself down on the bed nearest to the window. He crossed his legs, and stared almost wistfully outside.

The setting sun cast a lovely glow around the room, and if Bucky squinted enough, he could almost pretend the room had been painted a soft gold.

Bucky smiled. “C'mon, punk. We’ll head up the town and go out dancin’. Sumn’ celebratory, ya know?”

Steve looked up at Bucky, unimpressed.

“M'serious, Stevie, it’ll be fun,” Bucky sat down on the bed beside him.

Steve shrugged and looked disinterested.

Bucky knew Steve didn’t have much luck with the dames, no matter how well he described Steve to them.

He’d always be generous, yes, but he'd describe Steve real well. She would always start out being interested in the artist with stunning blue eyes, and sandy blond hair, who was a real spitfire. But when she’d see his small stature, and short height she’d stop caring. Her face would drop and she’d end up linking her arm around Bucky’s vacant one.

That was stupid of her, Bucky would think, couldn’t she see she was letting go of a catch?

When the girl he'd set up with Steve inevitably ignored him, Bucky found it increasingly difficult to care about her, or even his own date. Why would he bother with someone who didn't care about the most important person in his life? 

He'd end up politely excusing himself early, using the excuse of work to escape. Him and Steve would stroll back home, and go to bed early. 

"Why don't you just go out on your own, Buck?" Steve's quiet voice would say from the dark. "You never go necking 'cause of me, you shouldn't suffer just 'cause I don't have a dame," 

Bucky would scoff, and mutter something about how it's be no fun without Steve.

But right now, Bucky was determined to have some fun out on the town. He nudged Steve's arm with his elbow and smiled.

"This'll be different, Stevie, we can head out, maybe pick up a real pretty dame or two-" 

"You don't have to do this, Buck. Y'know my girl will jus' run off with the next tallest guy," Steve's eyes dropped to his shoes.

Bucky, on any normal day, wouldn't pay any attention to Steve's martyr complex, but today he decided, fuck it.

"If ya don't want to go out with a dame, Steve, we can just go out drinking together, no dancing?" Bucky cocked his head to the side, "I don't mind. S'long as you have fun,"

Steve looked slightly mollified, and finally tore his eyes away from the floor.  
"Kay. But you're buyin' first round. I might s'well get wasted if there's no gals,"

Bucky grinned like a child, and grabbed Steve's two forearms, pulling him up off the bed. 

Bucky was taller than Steve, by at least four or five inches, but he wasn't always. When they were kids, Steve was taller. It wasn't until they hit puberty, Bucky started to shoot up. He remembered an 11 year old Steve looking grouchy the day Bucky happily announced his half an inch height increase, making him officially taller than him. 

"Ya better not keep growin'," Steve grumbled, "You'll hit the ceiling, then who'll be laughin'?"

"At least I'll be able reach the second shelf," Bucky retorted, not unkindly. "Besides, I ain't growin' anymore. M'as tall as my Ma, and she said if I get any taller, she'll put blocks on my head when'm sleeping so I'll shrink,"

But his mother didn't do this, and in turn he did get taller. But muscle memory is a strange thing, and sometimes Bucky genuinely forgets there's a height difference. It isn't until he looks in the reflection of a passing shop window or stands up beside Steve that it would really hit him.

Right now was one of those moments.

Steve didn't look into his eyes, and Bucky realized he was still holding onto Steve awkwardly.  
He decided he'd brush it off, make nothing of it.

Because, in complete truth, Bucky would like nothing better than to keep holding Steve like this. He knew it was wrong; hell, he wouldn't think about it if he could. It's not necessarily the religious aspect, Bucky hadn't attended Sunday mass in months. It was for Steve's sake. 

He couldn't involve Steve is his personal problems, not when he has enough to be burdened with.  
Steve's small, he already gets called a queer and a fairy. Bucky wouldn't be able forgive himself if Steve got beat up because of him.

The thing is, Bucky likes dames all well and good. They're all round, soft, and smell nice. But when he kisses them, he doesn't feel the sparks or the fireworks or anything. The only time he ever feels anything like this is when he's with Steve. 

He's known it for years, he knew he was a queer. He'd just rather not think about it. He'd settle down with a nice girl, get married, maybe have kids. 

But all he really wanted was Steve. 

"Well, if we ain't gonna go dancing, why don't we do a lil' now?" Bucky found his voice saying without his permission. "When's the last time you danced with a dame?" He gave Steve a hopefully inconspicuous eyebrow raise to lower the tension.

It worked. Steve's tense body language melted away and he laughed.  
"If I told ya the truth, you'd prob'ly insist on marchin' me down to the dance hall yourself,"

Bucky tapped his foot against the wood floor, and started to hum a soft melody. 

He reached down, and placed Steve's left arm on his waist, and clasped his left hand in Steve's right.

They swayed for a bit, until Steve pushed him away. 

"C'mon, jerk, or we'll never be there before seven," Steve said, shaking his head.

***

They ended up going to a local bar.  
They had walked around the neighborhood, looking for a place to get hammered, but none of the public houses they saw were exactly enticing.

It was just luck- or a very, very good intution- that led Bucky to take a right turn and stumble across a quaint little bar.  
It was clean, and it wasn't too far from the location of their new apartment, so Bucky was satisfied with himself.

Steve wasn't exactly a lightweight, but he couldn't really hold his drink.  
He knew this well, so he ended up just sitting at their table, sipping a whiskey. 

Suddenly, Bucky had an idea.  
He leaned over to Steve, and whispered in his ear, making him jump.

"There's this new film out, Stevie, that I'd like to see," he leaned in a little closer, "If we scatter real quick, we might make it in time to the pictures for the las' showing,"

For a moment, Steve looked at him, bewildered.  
One eyebrow furrowed, which Bucky knew was a sure sign of Steve weighing out his options.  
Then, he jerked his head into a nod and smiled.

"Okay, but we're cleanin' up first. I ain't getting no reputation of being a bad customer on our first day here," Steve said.

So Bucky paid, Steve gathered their glasses up, and they left.

It took a little more wandering, but they made it to the films. 

Bucky sauntered up to the ticket booth with Steve hot on his tail, and gave the employee his winning smile and turned up the charm.

"Say, doll, do you by any chance have any tickets left for 'Heidi',"  
She smiled, a little flattered, and said that she did.  
He turned back around for a moment, and winked at Steve in joy.

He paid what he thought was still an outrageous amount for two measly tickets, even with a discount, but it was okay. Him and Steve were there, they were seeing a film, they had a new apartment, everything was okay.

They got their seats, a little too far to the back for Bucky's liking, but what can a guy do.

Suddenly, the projector behind them hummed to life, and the lights dimmed. 

The film was good. It was just out, brand new. It was about an orphaned girl played by Shirley Temple herself who was sold as a slave but befriends a cripple girl named Klara, which Bucky really enjoyed.

At one point, during a distressing scene, he sneaked a glance over at Steve, who was wide-eyed and sitting there stiffly, and he got another idea.

Now, Bucky's ideas aren't always good.

Sure, the going-to-the-films one was, and maybe the getting-a-job-at-the-docks one was too. 

But he couldn't forget about that time he convinced himself and Steve to worm their way into that delapidated, unsafe building in their neighborhood when they were twelve, almost getting Steve killed. 

Or the time he mistakingly decided to go further than first base with Bridget from the dance hall and ended up freaking out and bolting while she was getting undressed.

But right now, because his logical brain must've fallen asleep, he decided it was good enough and he snaked across his right hand and intertwined it with Steve's left.

Steve, again, looked at Bucky with an expression he couldn't quite make out (Steve really was in a mood for quizzical looks tonight, he thought) but quickly turned back to the screen. More importantly, he didn't snatch back his hand.

Steve's hand was warm, smooth and soft. It was so comfortable, and so familiar, that Bucky thought why they hadn't done it before.

He sat there, content.

They stayed like that, in silence, until the film ended and the lights came back on. 

***  
When they got outside the films, Bucky slung an arm around Steve.

He must've let his guard down, because he certainly didn't expect Steve to clock him in the jaw, hard.

He stood there, stunned and looked at his best friend.

Steve was fuming, and Bucky had seen that anger a thousand and once times over, but never, never directed at him.

"What are you trying to do, you asshole?!" Steve spat.

"What do you-"

"You know well what you were doing, making me out to be a queer-" 

Then it hit Bucky. This revelation actually hurt more than the punch Steve had aimed at his jaw.

Steve thought- he genuinely believed that- Bucky was doing this stuff to taunt him?

"-the whole evening," Steve continued, "the whole evening you've been at me,"

Bucky backed away a little.  
"I swear, I ain't," he stuttered out, his voice like a mouse. Honestly he was surprised anything came out at all, he was so speechless.

"Then what about dancing, or the whisperin' in my ear, tryna get me hard or something? Then, you holding my hand like, like I'm a dame or somethin'," Steve positively growled.

It was just about now that Bucky decided he had enough. This ain't true at all, it was him who was the queer, not Steve, this whole conversation came out of nowhere and-

"When did you find out, huh? That I'm a queer?" Steve demanded.

And with those four words, Bucky felt sick to his stomach, but not in a bad way, exactly.  
Did- did Steve just admit-

"You're," Bucky said quietly, "you're a queer?"

Steve's anger slipped off his face momentarily. 

"Yeah," he whispered.

And out of nowhere, Bucky didn't know what overtook him considered the situation but, he started to laugh. A real belly laugh.

Steve looked like he was about to get angry again and got ready to throw another punch at Bucky, but Bucky just laughed. 

"Me too," Bucky breathed.

And suddenly, Bucky had no air left in his lungs. He noticed the gap between him and Steve was getting smaller. 

He leaned in, and oh-

Steve's lips were on his.

He thought that if heaven existed, this was it. The soft, warm pressure of Steve's lips was better than he had ever imagined. 

And they kissed, for what felt like years but was probably seconds. Bucky's brain went a thousand miles an hour- maybe, maybe queer love isn't all that queer. Maybe all those hours, days, weeks he'd spent beating himself up for feeling perverted for looking at Steve and seeing stars.. maybe it was worth it.

It felt like home, and he could taste honey, or maybe cinnamon, and the spicy flavour of the whiskey from earlier. He could also taste something so quintessentially Steve. But oh, so suddenly as it had started, it had ended. 

The pressure of Steve's lips had faded and he felt the jab of his best friend's bony elbow in his chest. 

"As much as I enjoyed that," Steve murmured, "we're in public. Wanna get ourselves killed?Thank God no one saw us, we'd be better off goin' back home,"

The absurdity of kissing his best friend was still raw.

They walked in silence back to their apartment, which was going to be very cold, because goddamnit, Bucky had forgot to turn on the gas heater before they left.

When they arrived, Bucky shakily unlocked the door and flopped down on the armchair in the corner. Steve stood at the counter, anxiously biting the inside of his cheek.

"So," he said.

"So," Bucky replied.

"I can move out," Steve blurted, going a beetroot red.

"No need, pal," Bucky joked, "if anyone should move out, it'd be me, I've known for ages,"

"You have?" Steve blinked. He wrung his hands around, all nerves.

"Yeah, probably shoulda told you. I realised the moment the dames started noticin' me back," Bucky gave a small smile, "And of course you didn't help, you lil' punk,"

"I realised," Steve gulped, his ears going pink, "when I saw you coming back from the sea, the time we went to Manhattan Beach, a few years back,"

Bucky chuckled. "That long, huh? We're a buncha dumbasses, ain't we?"

He looked up at Steve, and shoved over on the armchair. He patted the empty slot, indicating for him to come over.

Steve hesitated for a moment, and his eyes darted around the room for a moment, as if searching for something. He obviously decided it was okay, and padded along the floor towards the armchair.

When he sat down, Bucky had to resist the urge to pull Steve close to him and wrap his arms around his best friend. It wasn't easy.

Steve's eyes bored holes into Bucky as he stared up at him, making him feel the familiar emotion of 'oh shit, I am taller than him, huh' for the second time this evening.

"I didn't tell you cause I was afraid," Bucky whispered.  
Steve nodded, and Bucky continued.  
"It's just that- you already get the blunt end of things, ya know? I didn't want to add 'fairy' to the list,"

Steve gave a shaky laugh. "That one wouldn't have been your fault," he shook his head, "I tried to ignore it,"

"Whaddya mean?"

Steve looked sad. "A while back, that Arthur Costelloe; you know him, his father runs the mart, he sort of.." his voice trailed off.

"Wha' did he do Steve?" Bucky said, suddenly alarmed.

"He.. he beat me up, kept calling me names. After that, I thought I could sorta repress it, I guess," he scoffed, "Look how well that turned out,"

"I'm- I'm so sorry, Stevie, I didn't know-"

Steve shook his head dismissively. 

"It's 'kay, Buck. It ain't your fault." He turned completly towards Bucky now, and breathed in a sharp inhale, gaining confidence. " Now, I ain't one to be sappy, but if you wanted to, y'know, kiss again I wouldn't say no,"

Bucky's eyes widened. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he felt so elated he thought he might quite well burst with happiness. 

"Okay," he said, short of breath once more. He could get the cinnamon scent of Steve again as he leaned in and then all of a sudden, Steve's lips were once more connected to his.

If he thought the first time was heaven, Bucky didn't have words to describe this time.

Steve reached his hand around Bucky's neck and wrapped them around him, moving to straddle Bucky's lap. 

Bucky was just smiling into Steve when he could feel the tip of Steve's tongue snaking his lips. He felt his mouth open instinctively, and embraced Steve in more.  
He never, never, never felt anything like this. 

Steve groaned a little into his mouth until Bucky shushed and reminded him that just because they came to terms with being queer in about an hour, they still have neighbors who mightn't be as accommodating. 

Steve moved his mouth down towards Bucky's neck and kissed softly along his jawline.  
Bucky reached up and cupped Steve's face with his hand. Oh, how he'd gotten lucky. 

And the best part was- he didn't feel a radical change in their relationship. If he'd, god forbid, done this with one of his other friends, he'd know that their relationship would change and never go back. 

But the thing is, him and Steve have been there for each other the whole way. They were basically sweethearts, maybe besides any kissing, up until now.

He thought. When had their relationship reached that level? When he and Bucky met, they were just kids. Seven or eight, ish. They'd just had a sort of fraternity, a brotherhood.  
Maybe it was when they were teenagers. He had started to notice Steve romantically age thirteen, maybe earlier, he just didn't realise. Perhaps it was inevitable that they'd end up together.

He doesn't know how long they stayed like this, necking and kissing. It was pure bliss, but eventually Steve got wheezy and had to take his nebulizer for a bit.

Bucky laughed. "I ain't never know anyone who interrupts a make out session to take their puffer,"

Steve mock-punched him, and told him to shut his piehole or he'd show him where he could shove his puffer.

And that was it. They still had that banter they always had. Bucky grinned. They always had been referred to as an old married couple. He guessed that took on a whole nother level now.

He cradled Steve in his arms, long after Steve had fallen asleep.  
Steve was snoring against his chest, and at some point Bucky had covered them with his old overcoat, and he was struck with the thought that he has never felt more at home. 

It was as if he had finally grasped that familiar nostalgic feeling that he had previously thought to only exist in dreams.

Maybe this apartment wasn't so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!!  
> Remember i have a tumblr (@dykebucky) and i’d love to hear from you!!!!
> 
> did u know that in 1937 a few days after Steve’s birthday they actually did get over 100 degrees Fahrenheit in Brooklyn? i didn’t until I had to research it for this fic!!
> 
> ‘a leanaí’ means ‘her darlings’, plural of ‘a leanbh’ (her darling) btw!! i’m actually irish but I’m very bad at the language so if u know if there’s a mistake there then pls let me know!! I trusted Irish forums for this fkfjfkfj
> 
> please drop a comment if u liked it!! even if it’s just ‘<3’!! I really appreciate it :D
> 
> writing this was so fun, and i’m Very Proud bc it’s my first fully finished fic I didn’t abandon. 
> 
> thank u again!!!


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